


what to do with the pieces

by Renaisty



Category: B: The Beginning (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Missing Scene, well a few of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-11 12:23:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15972239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renaisty/pseuds/Renaisty
Summary: Keith and Koku are laying low, and Lily is looking for answers. What happened in the moments we weren't shown?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just trying to fill in the blanks of what happened when episode 8 takes place in the timeline, only bc it's something I want to see. I've been marinating on it for a while, but since I don't want to have s2 step all over my headcanons, here it is.
> 
> Title from the quote 'We've taken the world apart but we have no idea what to do with the pieces' by Chuck Palahniuk, because this is what writing the fic felt like.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it. I'll post the rest in the next couple of days, just to not have a huge one-shot. Let me know what you thought!

Koku never answers his question, motionless in a small pool of his own blood. Even knowing the kid's limits are quite different from normal people's, Keith sort of expects him to have stopped breathing. Predictably, he hasn't, his chest rising and falling lightly, raggedly.

Keith doesn't particularly want to leave him, but it's a lot of dead weight, and eight years of minimal activity have not helped his joints or muscles. He gives the injuries a once-over, making sure none of them are bleeding excessively, in need of immediate care, then leaves to get the car.

The shotgun is heavy at his back; still hot where the blue steel and the bullets had exploded out of it. He stows it at the foot of the backseat. No one is going to be using the space anyway. His mind is working a mile a minute, trying to make sense of everything he'd seen, how it factors into what he knows and what conclusions it can help him reach.

He leaves the car at the foot of the steps, well outside the path of destruction, and still too far for his taste. His joints are not meant for this.

Back at the ruined temple, nothing has disturbed the relative peace of a battleground after the fight. "Koku?" he asks, just in case, shaking the kid's shoulder. Nothing.

The inky black is fading away from his skin, and the wings, blood and everything, are retreating amidst a shower of faint blue sparks. It takes a few moments, during which Keith can tell his eyes become proportionate again; though he knows they're still mismatched under the closed eyelids.

Well, Keith supposes, there's nothing for it. Koku is showing no signs of waking up, so he and his joints will have to suck it up and do something sooner or later. They need to leave as quickly as possible. The two of them are wanted by the authorities for murder, and Market Maker will not be caught off-guard a second time.

The kid's lighter than he looks, if not by much. He would have to be, to fly with _those_ wings, but then again, when it comes to the reincarnated gods, Keith can't be sure where science ends and the supernatural begins. He keeps Koku's torso close to his, to reduce the strain on his body. His clothes are getting red in places, soaking through with the blood dripping from the multiple wounds.

Keith doesn't concern himself with the bloody trail they leave behind. He knows Koku's DNA is not on any database — not after Jaula Blanca, anyway. And even if it is, no one will connect it to an unassuming, mild-mannered young man, regardless of if said person's spare time is spent on committing gory murders.

When he puts the kid down in the seat, his back thanks him. Keith lays the limp form down on his side, so he doesn't fall. He digs out the thin sheet he had, until ten minutes ago, been planning on sleeping on, and drapes it over Koku. Soon, before he even turns his eyes away, dark red spots appear on it.

It seems so many injuries are hard even for a supposed god to recover from.

Keith almost floors it, before the bloodstains on his pants remind him that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn't be driving recklessly with an injured, unconscious person in the backseat. His hands are steady on the wheel as he drives at the speed limit, for the moment only aiming to get away from the incriminating, attention-drawing scene.

Truthfully, he's shaken. It's one thing to know about the existence of superhumans, another to see them fly over your head; something completely different to fire a shotgun loaded with metal and see the skin sizzle and break down like poison. To have it hammered home that you are _known_ , not as Keith Flick, investigator, but as part of a prophecy that has played out, is playing out. Part of some other world, hidden in plain sight.

Lily's words come to mind. _It's disguised as something else._

Her intuition was surprising, unexpected, and unwelcome. Keith _left_ so no one else would be dragged into this mess. Predictably, at least from his own perspective, he's leaving again, so it doesn't happen a second time.

They're far enough away, by now, so he gets out of the road. He stops the car barely inside the range of a lone streetlight, hiding in the darkness of the night. Keith can't resist the deep sigh, laying his head back on the seat. He turns to look at the back, checking on Koku. Still unconscious; whether that is good or bad, he doesn't know.

It stings, not knowing. But along the sting is anticipation, for the moment he finds out the answers. Those torn-out pages with the bloody edges in his father's notebook have taunted him for years, and not only because tearing them out might have been the last thing Heath Flick ever did.

It wasn't, though, not really. _To my son, Keith._

_Thirteen will sense the part of me within you. He will find his way to you. Please guide him._

Thirteen. Why couldn't he have said Koku instead? Keith huffs in slight annoyance, running his finger over the name again. It's just like his father to use the _on_ reading for the characters. And regardless, Kurohane is not exactly a normal name for a child, superhuman or not.

Guide Koku…

Did his father know what the child would grow into? A serial murderer leaving behind more than a dozen crime scenes, with his calling card carved three inches deep in the nearest available, fitting surface?

Passed out in the backseat, hurt and bloodied, he doesn't look like a serial killer to the casual onlooker. More importantly, the quiet young man Keith saw is not too far gone yet. Probably.

He's still short of many details, many explanations, with first and foremost, _why murders_ and _what connects the murders_.

Not for the first time, Keith kind of wishes he'd stayed at Jaula Blanca longer. He would at least know a bit more about — everything. It feels like a chunk of information is missing, specifically regarding Koku, and all of it was at that place. It might have been in the torn pages, too, but he probably will never know.

Sighing again, he turns on the engine. The trailer may be more conspicuous, but they can't stay in the car, and Koku's wounds need attention sooner rather than later. Mentally, Keith starts cataloguing the injuries. His medical supplies are not exactly abundant, but they will do, accounting for the kid's increased healing rate.

A park is one of the most obvious places for a trailer home, but not for Keith Flick. Starlight is enough for him to see its outline against the dark sky. Considering everything that had happened — they'd been found at Heian-ji after all — it's with caution that he unlocks the door, turning on the light. How quickly Market Maker will get back on their case isn't something he can estimate without knowing more about, again, everything.

No surprise guests.

He attempts to rouse Koku again, to no avail. "Yuna," he mutters, almost incomprehensibly quiet.

Well; he's still alive.

He can't have got heavier in the time between Heian-ji and the park, it has to be Keith who feels more tired. Unless he's already replenished however much blood he lost, which is truly terrifying.

The couch of someone wanted for murder shouldn't be bloody. He leaves the kid on the floor until he gets the medical kit out. By now, the sheet is thoroughly ruined and should probably be thrown away, unless Keith is willing to bleach it. Which he isn't, not really. He can't stand the smell, not after…

Every time he considers that it's been eight years, his irrational side bursts forth in denial. It feels like it's been forever, it insists one moment. It feels like it was yesterday, it insists the other.

Keith doesn't listen to his irrational side. It cannot provide any tangible result, any concrete answers. What he knows is those people have to be stopped. And as long as Erika's killer is free, justice still needs to served.

Three, no, four impalements with a blade; eight bullet wounds; five spears going through him, one irrelevant because his wings have been hidden. There are… too many injuries. By all accounts, he should not be alive. But blood is seeping out incredibly slowly, and the wounds appear to be closing even before Keith's eyes.

Koku does not look like he's going to bleed out any time soon, so he takes his time. Doing things hastily rarely pays off anyway. The clothes are beyond ruined, and he throws them in a bloody pile next to the door.

Luckily, eight exit wounds are accounted for, so he won't have to dig out any bullets. It would have been interesting and maybe helpful, however, to see what kind of guns Market Maker uses. The twins were too far away at first, and by the time they came closer, Keith had more important things to do than look at their weapons. Another time, he tells himself.

Saline solution, antibiotic ointment, bandages; rinse and repeat. If it stings at all, it doesn't show on Koku's face. Keith can't help but satisfy his curiosity, examining the kid's right hand for a couple of minutes as the body, on some level so different from a human's, mends itself together. It's a remarkable sight, if he's honest.

Just to be safe, Keith covers the abrasions around the left eye too. That's the only time Koku reacts, twitching unconsciously, bandaged right arm blindly coming up to stop him.

"It's okay, Koku," he says, gently lowering it back to the kid's side.

At the last moment, he doesn't let it down, instead inspecting it for any signs pointing to loss of circulation; there are none.

Keith doesn't move him yet, for fear of the wounds being slower to close. He replaces the ruined sheet though, putting a couple of cushions under Koku's head. Nope, he's definitely not bleaching the thing. After locking up, he throws it in the nearest trashcan before getting in the other car. He's abandoning the first one, just in case, and because it's not really made to drag a trailer home along.

He doesn't have a plan, exactly, or rather, not one based on a detective's thinking. If Keith has to describe it, he'll say he's thinking with his stomach rather than his head. It makes his movements unpredictable, unless one knows his eating habits. The near-decade of isolation has ensured not many do.

He's lucky he'd slept before, because it's hours before he crashes and by then, they're halfway to Morta. He parks under some trees in a corner of a trailer park, moves Koku to the couch, and tries to sleep. What ends up happening is he stares listlessly into his coffee cup, woken by something that he wouldn't describe as a nightmare.

But he wouldn't describe it as a dream either.

There's a slight chill in the air, so he digs out one of his smaller t-shirts for Koku. It's a grape colour that Keith doesn't wear often, if at all. He usually prefers brown tones, dark blues and whites to flashy, eye-catching clothing. Not at all like the kid's now torn deep red shirt. Although, he supposes, he must go through a lot of shirts, if he keeps transforming with them on.

His father's words simmer in the back of his mind.

Soon, Keith will have the answers he wants.

He wakes up again and the sun is up. He still has enough time to change Koku's bandages and make breakfast, that only he eats, seeing as the other person of this not-household is sleeping like the dead. Had Keith not checked his pulse and breathing a frankly embarrassing, for an investigator with his knowledge of biology, amount of times, he'd have thought the kid had gone ahead to join his ancestor in the sky.

Or is it clone? Reincarnation?

Keith wonders what he's missing, looking through the familiar words of the little notebook. He's next to memorised them, but they don't offer any new insights.

Movement in his peripheral vision catches his eye.

"You took quite a beating," he says; a bit of an understatement. "Don't push yourself yet. Get some sleep."

He's never actually seen Koku drink coffee, but he says he'll make some anyway. That's before the kid asks about his pants. Really? Did he forget all the bullets and assortment of blades going through him?

He doesn't know what he'll find, but three old, yellowed pages out of a notebook is not it. The pages he thought were lost forever, torn out by someone who Keith wanted to think was Heath himself. He finally knows what happened to them. And they're here, in his hands.

It's what's written on them that makes his eyes widen. What Koku says starts to knock the misarranged pieces of the case in his head into their proper order, confirming his suspicions and theories.

Limbs. Memories. The black-winged king's eyes.

There's still more, but this is a start. A good start.

Koku has stopped talking a while ago, and is staring blankly up at the ceiling. He's never been in the kid's position, but Keith supposes years' worth of memories take a while to process. Especially memories of traumatic events, that are not even welcome in the first place. If everything on these pages checks out, there's quite a lot of heavy stuff that's got to be digested.

Keith is one hundred percent sure everything checks out. His father would never write an untruth down as research, or guidance. Then again, those instructions seem, in retrospect, a bit — excessive, if a child was meant to follow them. Particularly of the man Keith knew and loved.

Still, it was a last resort. And regardless of Heath Flick's sensitivities, the prophecy is the prophecy. Twisted, nonsensical, vague as it is, _if_ there are things that are meant to happen… they are written right there, etched in stone.

When Keith looks again, Koku is watching him.

"What is it?"

"Your father gave me these," he says. "Looking back, Jaula Blanca was not the best place in the world. But Dr Kazama — Canopus…" He trails off, taking his gaze away. "He was good."

"You followed the instructions," Keith notes, motioning to the pages in his hand.

"I did. Everyone trusted Canopus to know what was right." He doesn't sigh, but it's a near thing. "At least, us kids did."

"Do you know who killed him?"

It's a long shot. It should have been an anonymous Market Maker agent among many, one that might even be already dead. But. The weapon, the angle, the force… something is missing. From what Koku is saying, it appears to be unlikely, and it's a horrifying thought, but the conclusion Keith comes to again and again is that it was one of the children who did it.

"No. I wasn't there when it happened. "

"That's okay," he says.

But if that person was a child, and is not human, like Keith suspects…

Minatsuki.

_Mina - tsuki_.

He has a name, for the first time. Something other than rumour that had gone through three different, variably trustworthy people.

And all he'd had to do was get framed for murder, or, more like, have Market Maker finally target him. Had Koku not been there, Keith would probably be in prison right now.

"How is it okay?" Koku demands, rising up of the couch slightly, instinctively. He winces at the movement, falls back down to the pillows.

Some of the wounds are starting to bleed through the bandages, Keith sees. He'll have to change them, preferably before Koku goes back to sleep.

"You don't need to," Koku says dismissively when Keith tells him. "I'll heal either way."

"There is such a thing as taking care of wounds, you know." If his healing rate is as accelerated as Keith has seen, it's probable that the kid has never bandaged an injury in his _life_.

He huffs in annoyance, turning away towards the wall.

"Koku." He doesn't put much force in the words, but Koku jolts, looks at him with an expression of mild surprise.

"Fine," he mutters.

Keith helps him sit up, take off the shirt so he can check the rest of the dressings. As he thought, there are more bloodstains.

While he's working, Koku is looking in the other direction, where the window is. Outside, it's getting warmer with noon, but soon the temperature will drop again. Cremona is not known for its mild temperatures, not this late into fall anyway.

"How is it okay?" he asks again, quietly.

"It's okay," Keith says, securing the last piece in place, "because that person will go down with Market Maker. Hopefully, soon. And they will have to face justice."

"I can show them justice," Koku says, lowly, darkly. Had he known who it was that killed Heath, that person's head would be rolling around in the bottom of the sea. Or, they could be suffering a number of other fates, as seen in the 'B' cases. Stabbed through the heart, the brain. Cut into two, horizontally or vertically. Impaled to any nearby object and left to fall to the ground and rot.

He knows years of being exposed to violence can make one indifferent to it. So, Keith waits for it to sink in. This is Killer B, serial murderer.

But by the time the various gruesome murder scenarios fade from his mind, Koku has fallen sideways on Keith, unable to fight sleep.

…

Koku wakes to light, bright and blinding. There's a window next to his bed, which is not a bed, but a couch. It's really comfortable.

Too comfortable. He sits up, unable to stand it. It takes a while for anything new to register, his brain busy making sense of everything he just got back. Yuna. Jaula Blanca. Dr Heath. Kirisame.

Outside, there's only a bridge, the sea, and the end of a landmass, an island whose name he cannot guess. And…

Keith Flick. Fishing.

It's a bemusing sight. The man does not stop surprising him, first with his relation to Dr Kazama, then with his rescue... Why did he do that? What does he want? Where even are they?

He needs to go. But as soon as he gets up and makes for the door, Koku realises that might pose a bit of a problem.

It hurts. He's not used to it hurting so much; in the near decade he's been alone, no one ever came close to seriously injuring him. In the moment, he couldn't really feel it, consumed by anger and desperation, but now stabs of sharp pain pierce his body all over with every move he makes.

Not his eye though, and Koku's already tired of his depth perception being messed up. He reaches up to get the irritating bandage off when the door opens.

"Let me do that," he hears a voice behind him, making him turn around. While Koku wasn't watching, the man had left his spot by the sea and come to the — where is this, again?

"It's healed," he shakes his head. Wrong move, and he knows the head injury, whatever it is — he hadn't noticed — is decidedly not healed.

"Is it?" Keith Flick asks, drily, in a tone that implies he thinks he knows it isn't.

"Yes," he says tersely. "And I need to see properly."

The man makes a move to come closer, and Koku takes a step back, unthinkingly.

Yes, something _must_ be wrong with his head, for it to consider Keith Flick a threat, momentarily or not. Even if Koku's strength was not multiple times the human's, he has shown precisely zero ill intent towards him.

For his part, the man stops. "Koku?" he says, inquiringly.

It must be the shock. If the fight at Ward Eight could be classified as one thing, it could be called a 'beating' as Keith Flick had put it. He still gets surprised at every twitch of pain, unfamiliar as the sensation is. His body just got a serious reminder that the world is dangerous to him, a thought which had all but disappeared until his memories resurfaced.

_Koku_ is the one who is dangerous. That's how it's always been.

Sitting back on the couch elicits more pain, and he has to acknowledge, to his deep disappointment, that he can't leave yet.

"Fine. You do it."

Keith Flick's hands are sure with the cloth. It comes away spotless, proving him _right_. The head needs to be rebandaged, though, and that _hurts_ ; Koku barely manages to keep his expression clear of any discomfort.

"Where are we?"

"Morta island," comes the answer, missing a beat. Quite a way from the temple, then.

"Why here?"

"I'm wanted for murder, you're injured and Market Maker is after us," Dr Kazama's son replies. "We need to hide."

"I don't need to hide," he argues. "What I need is to find Yuna."

"Well," the man raises an eyebrow, "did you not find her?" Koku's arm twitches. Now it's Keith Flick who leans back slightly, away from the range of Lohengrin. He sighs, amending his statement. "Not with those injuries you don't."

It's enough for Koku to discard the anger. He can't really disagree about that, but the way the man treats him like glass is still grating.

"How long was I — asleep?"

"Well, before you first woke up, you slept the whole night through." He looks out the window, glasses flashing in the glare, before turning his gaze back to Koku. "Now it's been a few hours since then. You must be hungry."

He is, but he's gone longer without. Not really because of lack of the means to get food, but a couple of times when he was hunting, there was no time to go get something to eat; if it meant he would get his mark, Koku could ignore the need.

"I've got everything we need to make gumbo, and roast some fish I caught. Come on."

"Gumbo?" he wonders. He doesn't mean to actually say it, but, he reasons, his brain is still not entirely on board with sending the right signals to the rest of his body.

The face Keith Flick makes is bored and long-suffering all at once. "You too?"

He doesn't pry further. As long as it's food, it's okay. Lily would say otherwise, her obsession with red bean buns and Zeppole di san Giuseppe obvious to anyone who knows her for more than a week.

The other does, probably. When Koku had tailed them, they seemed close, Lily comfortable in the man's presence. From his observations, for Keith Flick's standards, he also seemed to not hate her company.

That's easy for her. Despite her excitability, which could get tiring for him personally, but probably was great for her social life, Lily and her family's sincere cheerfulness made Koku somewhat content, in a way no one else had before, after Jaula Blanca. It's one of the reasons he keeps working at her family shop, apart from the work itself, which he was surprised to find he actually likes.

"Here," Keith says, and points to the t-shirt Koku had on before. He realises he'd fallen asleep before putting it back on. He doesn't even remember lying down, and Koku is suddenly sort of embarrassed, glad that the other never mentioned it. He will do the same, and hopefully the incident will be forgotten. "It's getting dark soon," the man adds.

"We're going out?"

"It will be better cooked over the fire."

It's all the same to him, though if Keith wants to go outside, well. He's the one cooking, he should get to pick.

Koku doesn't mind the cold. He never has, not really. But the moment he steps over the threshold, a chill runs down his back and through his injuries, making almost his whole body suddenly and loudly complain. It must show on his face, because Keith goes back inside, and comes back with a grey hoodie.

Judging by its size, it's one of the man's own, like the pants, and the t-shirt. But it's big, and it covers the worst of the injuries. When Keith isn't looking, Koku brings his hands to the opposite shoulders in a not-hug, revelling in the warmth, until, in a few minutes, the fire steals the last of the cold away.

He can't help staring into the flames, the smell of smoke clouding his thoughts. The memories take on new life then, emboldened by the existence of fire even in another time, another place. The presence of Dr Kazama's son doesn't help and, irrational as it is, Koku half expects the man to keel over any second.

He needs to get his attention off it. Keith doesn't seem likely to start a conversation, and in most other instances, Koku would be satisfied with the silence.

This particular quiet, however, is heavy with recollection, questions, and answers that do not bode well. He might as well learn why Keith saved him, in that moment when he'd thought it was all over.

Predictably, for an investigator, he wants answers. Fine; information, Koku can give.

He's much more surprised when Keith insists they eat first, wondering exactly when the man will stop throwing him off-balance. But the 'gumbo' is hot and delicious, so he doesn't dwell on it. Had he not been working for RIS, the man could make a fine chef; best to keep away from customers though, with that attitude.

Not like Koku can judge, really, but he mostly avoids people out of necessity, and doesn't feel the need to constantly be curt with them. Not for the first time since learning about his father, he wonders what happened to Keith to make him that way, or if he was just always like this. The dissonance between what he thought anyone raised by Dr Heath would be like, and the reality of the man in front of him is curious, but then again, people are not carbon copies of their parents.

There's a memory that wants to come to the forefront, but it's faded and murky, and soon enough retreats to the depths of Koku's mind again.

Not an hour later, he reassesses. The death of Dr Heath _and_ Keith's younger sister cannot have left him unchanged. Death never does.

With a more complete picture of his life, Koku can pinpoint the exact time and place he swore revenge, sought it above anything else save from finding Yuna. The attack, the fire, their mark, the other boys' bodies strewn about on the snowy forest ground.

The ritual.

He tells Keith about the Reggies, and about Dead Kyle. Strangely, the man doesn't seem happy at his death, but that is in line with his earlier admission. He'd be content to see Dr Heath's killer in prison, and likewise, he'd be content to see his sister's murderer in prison. As if that is enough, could ever be enough.

Koku makes it clear, then, that he won't let anyone stand in the way of his revenge. No matter who they are; even if they are the child of his beloved teacher. The people who gunned down and stabbed his classmates to death like nothing, who stole away Yuna, turned her into a different person… they will pay.

It's a warning he's not sure Keith heeds, but the man doesn't make any comments about the legality and morality of murder, only saying they should turn in for the night.

It suits Koku just as well. He's tired, even though he technically did nothing all day long. Is this how humans feel every time when they get hurt?

Over the kitchenette, there's a half-floor Keith dubbed 'bedroom'. It shares little resemblance with the actual thing, being scarcely more than a few pieces of wood nailed together, but for a trailer home, it's pretty good.

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?" Koku can tell the other is taken aback at his abrupt reply, but it's a non-negotiable issue. "I thought the couch would be more comfortable."

"I don't really care about comfort."

Especially sleeping on a cloud. Koku much prefers the floor, and he's used to it as well. He never got around to getting a bed or a mattress at his hideout for this exact reason. Thankfully, Keith understands, and doesn't push it.

He doesn't come up either. There's certainly enough room, as well as a second bedroll.

"I have a call to make," Keith replies to the questioning look.

It takes Koku's wounds a good minute to stop hurting from the simple task of getting up the small ladder. At the stabs of pain, the simple wood turns into Minatsuki's hand, coming closer, over his eye, and he blinks the image away.

He's done worse himself.

Koku lays awake in the darkness as sleep does not come.

Where is Yuna now, he wonders. Market Maker didn't seem to care about hurting her, but they did take her away. Despite the simmering hatred inside, Koku finds himself wishing someone took care of her, like Keith did for him.

He lost her again. The thought smarts uncomfortably, his heart clenching with a different hurt than the physical one he's almost got used to by now. Her eyes shone, blue, then red with resonance, then grey and glassy after the unexpected backstabbing blow.

If Keith knows where they are, or at least where they might be... Koku will have to pry it out of him, and then he can go find Yuna — again. This time, he either comes back with her, or not at all.

He tries to find which position hurts less, disregarding the discomfort of the process. It's not long before he notices one of the only places he can feel no pain is Izanami's leg, left untouched by Market Maker. Did Minatsuki know to do that? Or was it simply luck? He must have. Their body didn't disintegrate, and it should have been found in the shallow water.

Unbidden, Izanami's voice comes to mind. It's only thanks to them that he even knew to look for Canopus, and found Keith. He remembers, now, the small child with a matching name, who'd stood beside him and watched the lights.

He killed them. Koku killed them, and the realisation sinks in with the weight of a brick, making his breath forcefully exit from his lungs as if he'd actually been hit.

They were with Market Maker, he knows. Although they didn't seem to have the same goal as the others who'd been sent after him, not in the end. At first though, it had been obvious they wanted to capture him, for what purpose, he doesn't know.

None of it stops the doubt, or the guilt. Had he known what was going on, could he have turned them to his side? Avoided killing one of the only others who hadn't made fun of him or disliked him?

It's too late for what-ifs. Far too late. Plus, who's to say Izanami didn't resent him too much to ever even consider changing sides?

He sighs, closing his eyes. There's no real change in what he can see, apart from the black of Yuna's dress, stained with blood.

Koku opens his eyes again.

Why do they want him? Izanami implied they don't care if he's alive or dead, but yesterday showed otherwise. They could have easily killed him, but instead went out of their way to try and capture him alive, losing their objective in the process.

He's not scared. Scared is someone with something to lose.

Koku is scared.

He can't understand, when did he start looking forward to working on the violins? To greeting Lily in the morning with red bean buns, or her family if she'd already left? To — living?

Until yesterday, he hadn't truly remembered the feeling. Going through life without an end goal in sight, clear and defined. Now…

Now he wants to find Yuna so they can _live_ , truly live. The way real people do. He's not quite sure what that is like, but they can figure it out, right?

Keith never comes, not before Koku falls asleep anyway.

…

Why does she have to find out this way? It's ridiculous, really. A single sentence would have sufficed.

'Oh, it's just that you look like his dead sister.'

There, over and done with. Some of Keith's behaviour towards her starts making sense, and she doesn't have to spend hours entering and re-entering that impossibly long mathematical formula into the computer number by number and fraction by fraction.

Alright so, she'd still have done it, but only once, curiosity satisfied and message received immediately instead of wasting a whole night.

She sighs. It's obvious what Keith is looking for, at least to her. The person prosecuted for Erika Flick's death is dead. So, he wasn't the real culprit. No, the real culprit is hiding in plain sight, and Keith has spent all those years looking for that answer.

It can also easily be the explanation for his angry insistence that she drop the issue. If the case is truly as big as she fears, the enemy disguised in the form of something else, it's incredibly dangerous as well. That's why the multi-camera program existed, why Bran was stabbed, why they were forbidden from looking into it, and why someone tried to frame Keith for murder.

Heaven, she sounds like Bran. Lily never believed in Bran's conspiracy theories, bogus spread around by idiots with nothing to do. Whether it was about the food industry feeding people dogs, or government organisations that orchestrate crimes and even wars, manipulating the balance of fear and tranquili…ty —

She almost crashes her car, letting out a celebratory whoop. That's the key. Balance. To what end, Lily doesn't know, but something tells her _that_ , _Market Maker_ , is the third player out there, connecting the case's parts into a chaotic structure not many can interpret.

Still, there are missing links. Why Erika's murder? Was it personal, or part of a plan to keep Keith away from the action, scare him into not getting to the bottom of it? And how exactly is Killer B connected to this? A former member gone rogue, maybe? Or an adversary, an assassin, rather than a serial killer, going after their operatives? But then that would mean…

No, it doesn't add up. There is only one thing common to all of B's known victims. They were serial killers. That's what all the files say, and what anyone who reads them points out.

Except… the other thing. It had caught her attention once, and she'd looked back through the cases to find it repeated again and again. She'd learned to look for it, though, given how they never knew when B would strike, it hadn't helped RIS find them.

None of B's victims had a _type_. And if they did, one way or another, the investigation _always_ revealed outliers, unwarranted by the circumstances. As if… as if at some point, they couldn't control themselves. However, why would a government organisation employ people whose only goal was to kill indiscriminately?

Why wouldn't it?

A balance. Killer B. The organisation. Keith.

They're playing it wrong. All of it. Keith is innocent and instead of trying to find out who's really behind Jean's murder, they are hunting him down, playing right into the hands of whoever's pulling their strings.

Oh, she's gonna give Eric a piece of her mind all right. She's furious, and anger makes her uncompromising. Call it stubbornness, petulance, irrationality, whatever; Lily knows it's not her strong suit, she does.

Still, in retrospect, she should have expected the conversation to go about as well as it does. It's a couple of hours later when she slams her badge down on Eric's desk, screaming at him on her way out.

No matter. Ever since the attempt on Bran's life, when RIS got orders from higher up that conflicted with what was the best course of action, it's been clear they will have to go outside the law to figure this one out. She'll find Keith on her own, somehow, and they can solve it together. They make a _great_ team, of that, she's positive.

The only thing she can't be sure of, is what Keith plans on doing when he does find the murderer.

Lily's not out of the city yet when her phone rings. For a moment, she imagines it's Eric, to tell her 'no, sorry, I was wrong, come back'. It's an entertaining thought, but the contact info on the screen makes her raise her eyebrows in surprise. He doesn't tend to call when he knows she's on duty, and there's no way he's learned about the suspension yet. It must be something else.

"Hi, dad, what's up?"

"Hello Lily," he starts, a bit hesitant, "do you have a moment?"

'More than you know, now,' she says internally. 'Or less, depending.' "Sure," Lily tells him instead. "Is something wrong?"

"Have you seen Koku today?" Koku?

"No, not at all. Why?" It _has_ been a while actually. Three days maybe, since they bumped into each other and she drove him to the library.

"Well, he came to the shop and the workshop the day before yesterday. Then…" her father trails off. "We haven't seen him since."

It's definitely the cases they've had lately. That must be why her heart makes its way to her stomach and all the worst-case scenarios rush into her mind. The very thought of Koku, her sweet, mild-mannered friend, in the clutches of some of the serial murderers they've been dealing with is enough to send her car straight to the side of the road in an emergency stop.

"You can't get a hold of him, I assume?" she asks, full-on investigator mode activated.

"No, he doesn't have a phone, and his address is too far away for us to check."

That's strange. Koku always shows up early in the morning, she'd figured he must live somewhere nearby. Although, judging by the wrapping of the treats he brings, he must pass near Panetteria which isn't that close by, especially without a car.

"I'll look into it. Promise."

"Thank you," her father sighs, relieved.

Lily doesn't have the heart to tell her father (and brother, who has got to be listening) about the suspension. Maybe once it's all sorted out, but not when they're already worried about Koku.

"Hey, that's what we do," she boasts as if everything is okay, before hanging up and resting her head on the wheel.

At this point, they've known Koku for years. He loves the work, so much so that her father calls him his 'only son' when he wants to get Lily's brother to help with something and he's dragging his feet. He always has a smile, or red bean buns, for them, and he's never caused a single problem.

Yet when she thinks about him, not much else comes to mind. Nothing that doesn't have to do with his personality, that is. His background, family, friends, it's all a blank. Come to think of it, Lily doesn't even know his last name.

She needs to find Keith. Something greater is at work here, and they'll all be caught up in it sooner or later. But she can't take the chance that Koku is in trouble. He's part of the family by now, whether he knows it or not.

Sighing deeply, Lily picks up her phone again.

"Hey, Boris? Can you do me a favour?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel a need to say that the characters' opinions are not mine, only what I feel like they'd think. As before, feel free to imagine any ship you like.

Koku's affronted expression when Keith brings up food again, scarcely two hours after breakfast and right when they are discussing the case again, would be funnier if Keith hadn't managed to reconcile his two identities. They stop for some red bean buns at the next bakery they find.

"Huh," Koku says quietly after he tries one.

"Don't tell me you don't know about red bean buns either?" Keith raises an eyebrow.

He expects the kid to get defensive, but he just shrugs. "It's just — I've had better ones."

Keith has, too. The ones Lily brought were definitely better. In a way, this is for Lily anyway, but he refrains from saying it, since the kid wouldn't get it.

She'd been right. About the gold solutions, and about hiding in plain sight. With as few clues as she had to go on, Keith acknowledges her intuition is incredible. He'll have to say that to Lily herself at some point. Whatever her less than agreeable with his disposition qualities, like, for example, being overly enthusiastic, she isn't an airhead, and won't get reckless because of the compliment.

Still, the most important thing right now is the case. He knows it's coming to a head soon, the events set in motion by everyone involved reaching critical mass until they explode, their consequences far-reaching and irreversible.

"Do you know why they want to capture you?"

"No." Koku looks at him sideways. "Do you? You're the one who knows what the Jetblack says."

"If I knew I'd tell you," Keith says simply.

Koku nods, accepting the sentence for the truth it is.

"What about you… Canopus?"

The question takes Keith by surprise. Koku, probably out of his mind with pain, had heard what the other man had said to Minatsuki.

Keith has come to the conclusion years ago; someone wants him alive. Yes, it could be because of his debatable connection to the prophecy, but that didn't stop Market Maker from killing his father, who had occupied the very same role.

That leaves open the other possibility. Whoever it is that wants him alive, while being quite high up in the organisation's pecking order, has their own personal reasons for it. _His_ own personal reasons for it.

The thought only reinforces his suspicions, ones Keith has had for eight years.

"Don't know. So, how long?" he asks. Koku doesn't answer, looking out of the window. Keith takes his attention off the small country road for a second, to check if the kid has fallen asleep on him. Nope; right as rain.

"How long what?" he gets out at last.

"How long have you been killing? You killed Kyle, but there was no 'B' mark." That was eight years ago. It means they've missed some 'B' cases, simply because he hadn't used his calling card. Just the Kyle murder already puts their estimates off by at least a year.

Koku doesn't answer immediately, but he looks at Keith, unnervingly like seeing right through him. It's a cold, calculating gaze that Keith can feel even when he keeps his eyes on the road ahead.

"I didn't get the idea to do it from the start." It's not exactly the answer Keith wants or asked for, but it gives him most of what he needs. "Why?"

"Just filling in the gaps."

Koku's glare is burning through the frames of his glasses, left arm twitching and Keith considers stopping the car so they don't get into an accident because the kid's emotions are uncontrollable.

"Whatever you want to do with —"

"I won't turn you in," he cuts Koku off. Instantly, the tension in the air is lifted.

Koku's lips still purse unhappily. "I don't believe you."

"Wouldn't I have done it already if I planned to?"

Koku shakes his head. "You were framed for murder. I know, I was there. But when this is over…"

When this is over.

It has been eight years. No, it has been… so much longer than that. This whole thing started because _he_ deciphered the Jetblack. That got his father killed, in the end; that might have got Erika killed, or at least, let the murderer walk away scot-free. Given what they're dealing with, Keith is not sure he'll survive to see this be _over_.

"Are you conveniently leaving out the fact that you implicitly threatened to kill me if I got in your way?"

Koku doesn't flush, but he turns away alarmingly fast. In fact, if he wasn't technically maybe a literal god, Keith might have thought he's sulking.

"It wouldn't stop you," the kid grumbles, still looking away.

Well, on that, he has a point. Keith doesn't make a habit of letting threats stop him from doing what his conscience tells him to do. Whether that is lawful or not depends mostly on the situation, with a very deeply carved red line on the issue of murder. That is a line he won't cross.

_Guide him._

Keith does stop the car, then. Sighs.

He shouldn't promise it. Koku has shown no regret for those murders, nothing by the way of guilt, or reconsideration. Whatever age he'd been then, he's more than old enough to know better, by now.

Keith allows himself to imagine a world where this is over, but in which Killer B still strikes, like clockwork, every time a Reggie that attacked Jaula Blanca rears their head. Imagines what he will do.

"Something wrong?"

It's blank. He doesn't have enough details of that future non-world, enough variables. All he has is his father's words, and less than two days with the kid.

"Nothing," he says. "Let's go. We need to get to Hols Island before nightfall."

As he drives, he muses that at least one good thing had come from him decoding the inscription. And if the events that marked the child made him into something else, that doesn't erase what his father saw in Koku.

It could have. It very easily could have. But Koku hasn't killed him yet, or anyone other than the targets of his vengeful ire, borne of a traumatic event and a fragmented past he couldn't piece together.

So maybe Keith is making excuses, setting the bar impossibly low; still, that's something.

In the end, he doesn't find any justification other than the obvious. It's the irrational side of him that points to the answer, that he could go as far as to call sentiment.

Keith just doesn't want to give up on Koku.

…

There's something Keith is not saying. Koku is all but healed, yet he's still being dragged around random islands without a purpose. He supposes that, by someone's definition, it can be called 'hiding', if that someone cocked their head sideways and squinted really hard.

It's not that he's suspicious, no. Even if he was, there's nothing Keith can do to him, short of poison the food they both eat with toxins that likely wouldn't be lethal to Koku himself. But he's getting restless; his body is ready for action and he's cooped up in a trailer home.

He was made to _fly_.

Made. He remembers now.

Koku had never thought himself to be normal, the difference of his physiology to humans' painfully obvious. As it turns out, however, it goes further than he'd thought. He was 'made'. Created out of a fossil to be something not _one_ person in that place understood. Except, perhaps, for Dr Kazama.

Even at his loneliest, he had never dared imagine a family to fill the gap of his memories. Parents, siblings, a past… it all seemed meant for others. Now, he's glad for it. The family he needed, he reasons, all the purpose to live and push forward, he had. His and Yuna's promise, a vow to stay together. Dr Heath's kind gaze and wise counsel.

He hadn't felt truly alone until the night of the attack. Within a few hours, he lost everything. And what he gained could never begin to make up for it. What good would strength do, or power that could not bring anyone back or unravel time?

That was when Koku discovered just how weak his mind was. Unable to bear the weight of the others, of that night.

_You're being unfair._

Maybe. Regardless of godly status, he'd been a child.

Every single time he closed his eyes, the nightmares would come, stealing sleep and peace away. Blood, smoke, blades, _death_ , they woke him up in terror. Until, it can't have been a month later, under the starlight in the abandoned factory, he turned his arm into a blade.

His first thought was to end it. But he had to find Yuna, he had to get revenge. Then an otherworldly reflection on the smooth, shiny blue steel flashed in the dim light. His left eye, wild and powerful.

_Never use it on others_ , Dr Heath's quiet voice cautioned. He'd never said the same about Koku himself.

"We can stop here," Keith says, turning off the engine and bringing Koku out of his thoughts. He shrugs noncommittally.

Here, there, what does it matter? It will all end at that place, wherever it is; where Yuna is. Sooner or later, he'll get Keith to spill whatever he knows; hopefully, it will be useful enough to help him find Market Maker. If not, he'll have to draw them out, taunt them, or wait until they do the same to him, like before.

Izanami. Koku sits with his back against the wall and tries to go back to a time when he didn't remember, or a time when he's already forgotten.

It's quiet, the only sounds coming from Keith's chemical reactions that create blue steel, the shotgun disassembled in front of him on the table. Koku is almost positive it can't hurt him — he's not a Reggie — but the sizzling sound of Minatsuki's arm hasn't really left his mind.

Koku closes his eyes, dispelling the image of retractable spears from where they have no business being.

"How did you manage to hit him?"

It's a fair question. Reggies are both stronger and faster than regular humans, not to mention humans of Keith's particular variety of 'looks like a strong breeze could knock him over'. Despite the man's height, he's on the slight side, because of either his nature or prolonged inactivity.

"He let me do it," Keith smiles sardonically for a second. "They weren't expecting it," he continues, serious now. "Without the benefit of surprise, it's unlikely I'll ever manage it again."

Koku huffs a not-laugh. "Then why are you making more ammo?"

"It never hurts to be prepared."

The man doesn't say anything else for a while. Usually, Koku is content with silence but he's tired of running, and bored, and, he acknowledges when his arm blade is inches from Keith's face, easy to rile up.

He briefly — very briefly — thinks of apologising for the destroyed hoodie. In all fairness though, Keith shouldn't have made that comment about 'complaining' and 'rubbing one out'. He brought it on himself, really.

Only, he's not afraid. Koku knows fear, has seen it on the faces of his targets; on his own. Keith Flick nonchalantly carries on the conversation with Lohengrin threatening to skewer him, tapping it with the _spoon_ when he says it's in the way. Koku can't really process it, the thought that someone who knows who he is, _what_ he is, what he's _done_ , would act with such indifference in the face of a clear threat.

Keith truly keeps surprising him. However, if he stops the conversation about their enemies for the sake of food _one more time_ , Koku will not be held accountable for his actions.

Regardless of his nutrition eccentricities, the man is smart. When Keith does finally lay his cards on the table though, the implications have Koku's stomach drop.

Of course. Yuna had been convinced it was Koku who killed everyone at Jaula Blanca. He'd felt the cold killing intent radiating from every movement of her body, every line composing the expressions of her face. When he'd remembered, looking into her red eyes, _she_ had too.

It only makes sense that someone with his memory manipulation ability has been involved, deliberately turned her against him. If the person who did it also killed Dr Heath, if he was behind Market Maker's attempts to capture him…

It changes nothing, in the long run. Koku will get to Yuna, he will find that person, and he will avenge them both. And if he takes care of that, Koku can leave the second man to Keith. He's human, so Dr Heath's son should be able to handle him.

All he has to do is fly towards Canopus.

…

Lily is ready to commit murder. Figuratively, that is.

It's been a long day. Cremona is not huge, but a person alone searching for an average-looking man? She might as well have been looking for a needle in a haystack. Until inspiration hit, and here she is, in Hols Island, heading for the gumbo place the second person she asked pointed at.

Keith is not alone, and for a moment, Lily is taken aback. Someone unaffiliated with RIS who can put up with Keith's attitude? That's unheard of.

When she recognises the familiar blue-tinted hair and cute face, her mouth falls open in shock, her expression probably one for Kaela's wall of Best Faces. Numbly, she takes her phone out of her pocket, eyes glued to the unlikely pair.

"Hey, Boris, I know I told you to follow up on the phone number lead, but it's okay. I — he just came home. Thanks again, I owe you one."

She doesn't wait for his reply, hanging up and striding into the shop purposefully.

"What do you think you're doing here?" she demands, to Keith's surprised face. Koku doesn't react at all, frozen looking up at her.

"Uh, you see… I can explain," Keith tries, as Koku silently rises off the bench, no doubt looking to get away. He doesn't, Lily's instincts well-honed enough that she manages to grab the hood of his grey hoodie.

"Not so fast!" she growls out, over his strangled exclamation.

"Hi, Lily," he smiles a bit when he turns around, but it's awkward and strained. "Are you, uh, here to arrest him?" He points to her other side, where Keith still hasn't got up to run away. Is… is the whole lower half of his sleeve torn off? And are those bandages dangling from what's left of it? What in the name of the gods is going on here?

"No," she answers resolutely. "But someone _will_ if he keeps _showing his face_ everywhere. Come on," she jerks her head towards the exit, slamming a couple of bills down on their table. "This enough?" she asks Keith, voice straining with anger.

He nods mutely, and they make their way out, him in front, Lily and Koku right behind him, her hand wrapped around his wrist. She hasn't taken off the RIS jacket yet, so it could easily appear as if she is taking them in. It certainly helps people jump out of their way until they reach her car.

"Where to, Keith?"

He directs her out of the town as she practically steams. "What were you thinking?! That everyone is as dumb as Eric-jerk-Toga, and won't figure out your kitchen wallpaper is actually made of gumbo recipes?!"

"Jerk?" Keith inquires, and she can see him raise an eyebrow in the mirror. Of all the things for him to focus on in that sentence. Like his own stupidity, for example.

"He suspended me!" she exclaims, indignant. "'I don't need fools who can't obey orders'," she mocks his deeper voice, turning her expression into a faint, calm glower before dropping the imitation. "He's the fool for not seeing two metres in front of his _face_!"

Keith's other eyebrow rises up to join the first one. "That doesn't sound like him."

"It sounded plenty like him this morning. And you," Lily turns to Koku in the passenger seat momentarily, "do you know how worried my dad was? You went MIA on us! I thought one of those serial killers got you!" A coughing fit breaks out in the backseat and, gods help her, if that is Keith stifling his laughter she _will_ turn him in. "It's not _funny_ , Keith!"

"You're right," Koku says, quiet and apologetic. "I should have called ahead, I'm sorry."

"What are you doing with _him_ of all people, Koku-kun?"

"To your left," Keith chokes out before the other can respond. Lily swerves, narrowly avoiding losing control of the car. She can see a trailer home up ahead, parked near the cliffside.

"This is it?"

Koku nods, and it's still strange, him being here. Or is Keith's presence the strange one? Keith means RIS, genius and bad attitude. Koku means home, beautiful music and red bean buns.

It feels like her two worlds are colliding in the most peculiar way, and she can't put the pieces together. What kind of connection could there possibly exist between them? Koku is decidedly not part of the case, certainly not any of the players she has identified. Right?

Yet a voice in the back of Lily's head reminds her of all the blanks she found in her own knowledge of someone she considers a good friend, unnoticed apart from when they, and their absence, became relevant.

The trailer is small, clean and orderly. Nothing atypical apart from the curious package in the corner. In fact, it appears to be little different from a stock photo, as if no one is living here. It _has_ only been a few days since Keith went on the run, admittedly.

Lily won't accept anything but the truth, or a confirmation of her own deductions. What she gets is a half-baked lie about them being siblings, obviously concocted on the fly by Keith. Why is Koku going along with it though?

In any case, she's right on the money with her Erika theory. Lily can't, however, pretend that she will let Keith kill the murderer, and she makes sure he knows it too.

Finding Keith did not uncomplicate the case at all, she laments internally. It only complicated it further, introducing thus-far unknown elements.

That's when the world explodes. In more than one way. Bullets riddle every single inch of the place, turning it into fire and smoke and rubble. Keith promises to tell her everything and she doesn't even register it, brain focusing on another part of the sentence.

'If we survive.'

"Burn this sight into your mind," Keith says, tense, as right in front of her eyes, Koku… transforms.

…

Keith can't be a hundred percent sure, but he thinks it's one of the twins that disintegrates in the night air. Within seconds, Koku has flown back, landing in a crouch in front of the smoking ruins, inhuman features melting away almost as quickly as back at the temple, when he recognised Yuna.

"Are you both okay?" he asks, head down. He doesn't come any closer.

Lily can't speak yet, shaken and shaking, for once stunned into speechlessness. Keith hesitates to get up, to uncover her body, as if that would expose her to the world and shatter the last of her steel.

It's an irrational thought. Lily is strong, she's seen some of the worst this world has to offer and lived to tell the tale. This is only an initial reaction to a shocking event outside the borders of what should be reality.

"Yes," he tells Koku. The kid nods slightly; he still doesn't make a move to move closer.

"Fly towards Canopus," Koku says, and his wings appear again. In the crouched position he's in, it seems oddly fitting. "Got it."

He's leaving, Keith realises. "Wait," he says, putting as much urgency as he can in the words. His hand has gone up of its own accord, as if to latch onto the kid and prevent him from doing something bordering on ignorantly suicidal. "It's not that simple, you'll —"

"Yes, it is," Koku shakes his head.

He's going to get himself killed. Keith can't let him do that, and not only because of his father's words.

"Koku!" Keith looks down in surprise. Lily has raised herself to her elbows, the steel back in her gaze. "I still want to know what's going on," she says steadily.

Koku doesn't fly away.

Keith finds his suitcase, thankfully one of the things the gunfire had not managed to reach, and gets him a new hoodie. By now, the old one is more than unwearable, torn to pieces that barely stay together. He mourns this one too as he gives it out, sure that he'll never see it again.

The three of them sit down among the debris, atmosphere heavy and tense. Keith doesn't break the silence and, surprisingly, neither does Lily.

"Why did they find us now?" Koku asks, after a few minutes of quiet. "We've been here for hours."

Lily snorts mirthlessly. "I must have been followed. I'm sorry, Keith," she says, sincerely.

"How would they know to follow you though?" he raises the next logical question. Keith thinks he already knows, but he wants to see if she figures it out herself.

Lily's lips press together in a thin line as she thinks. "You were right," she tells him grimly. "It's not like Eric to say such a thing. He used me to find you because he couldn't."

"And _they_ used _him_ ," Keith finishes the thought.

"Who _is_ 'they'? You promised answers, old man," she levels a frown right at him.

Trust Lily to ruin his plans of dealing with this alone.

"Market Maker."

Lily doesn't laugh, but it's a near thing, if a little bittersweet. "One of Bran's conspiracy theories is right. Colour me shocked."

They end up telling her everything; Jaula Blanca, the Jetblack, Market Maker, the reincarnated gods. Except for one small detail.

"I think I got all of that," Lily says slowly. "Nothing in this country is as it seems," she mumbles, deep in thought. Her eyes go from him to Koku, then back to him again before she makes a movement as if shaking off a thought. "Last question, I promise. So, is Killer B just a random murderer who's figured out the truth about the Reggies then?"

Koku is looking at him. His arm doesn't twitch, and the gaze is not threatening, but meaningful all the same. 'Will you give me up?' it seems to be asking.

Anyone else, Keith knows the kid could perhaps dispatch of, if it truly came down to it. With Lily, however, it's different. They seem close, familiar with each other. Koku speaks differently to her, less steely killer and more quiet young man. He's probably not prepared to go through her to keep his anonymity. Should Keith force him to consider it?

In the end, it's not a choice he gets to make, not now. He's already made it days ago.

"Yes, we think."

Koku's eyes close in what could be relief.

Lily starts laughing, loud and wheezy like she'd been holding back a lungful of air. "Oh, good," she says between breaths. "Good. For a second there I thought something real dumb, you know, one of those hunches that makes you not trust your gut any —"

"It's me," Koku says, the _dumbass_. Keith literally just _covered_ for him what is wrong with the kid?

The _other_ idiot's laughter is cut short. "Uh, no," Lily says, all traces of laughter on her expression wilting into a deadpan face.

Well, the cat's out of the bag, so it's really no use pretending otherwise. "It's him," Keith confirms helpfully, only to get the same stone-cold rejection.

"Do you need to hear their names?" There's the dangerous edge to the words, that's been absent since she came up to now.

Lily slowly lets her head drop, until all they can see is her hair. For a few moments, she stays still, stiller than Keith has ever seen her.

"Not really." Her voice comes out changed, lower than before. "The demonstration was enough. That blade, the way you moved with it — Who else could it be?"

For a few minutes, no one moves, or talks.

"Not 'B'," she says at last, heavy. "Thirteen." Keith remembers Lily drawing the symbol out in her touchpad the first day they met, over and over. She was the only one not to take the letter interpretation at face value, instead looking for other possible connections. It's likely that she'd found then what else it could mean, but lacked the information to properly connect it with the case. "And the lines?"

"Four," Koku answers. "Yuna."

"Koku?" When she finally looks up, her face is aghast. "Why?"

The kid frowns, puzzled. "Why not?" he questions back matter-of-factly.

Well. This is going even better than Keith had assumed it would. The thought drips sarcasm so strong it must be apparent on his face, but none of the other two take any notice.

…

Lily's expression falls even further. "It's murder, Koku!"

"It's what they deserve," he tells her.

"They deserve a trial," she counters.

"To show what," he throws back scathingly, "that all they can do is kill and kill until they're stopped?"

She doesn't answer to that, and he takes grim satisfaction from the fact. He only told her because it wouldn't take her long to realise on her own, either way. Besides, if even _Keith_ isn't going to turn him in, Lily will never.

"Keith," she turns to him, "you agree with him? How are you RIS if —"

"I don't," the man answers. He looks sideways, but his stare is far away, on something they can't hope to see. "Murder — it is the one thing I do not understand."

Bold words, coming from someone who is not lifting a finger to stop Koku. Neither of them is trying to get him arrested, so what does their conviction mean, in the end?

"I do," Lily says. "And I can't pretend to argue with the logic that they can't stop killing but," she frowns, "didn't you say there is a way for them to keep stable? They are _people_ , Koku."

How can she still defend them? His arm twitches with anger, but she pays it no mind. Unlike Keith, who knows exactly what it means, has seen Lohengrin sharpen into steel within milliseconds. He will protect Lily from Koku in a heartbeat, he knows. The man's sharp gaze is focused on him, _daring_ him to try anything.

He won't, of course. This is _Lily_. It doesn't mean the way she dismisses the Reggies' crimes doesn't sting.

"They burned down our home," he says quietly, trying to keep the emotions at bay. "They killed my classmates. Keith's father. Who will avenge them, Lily?"

_Who will avenge us?_

"Laws are there for a reason." He's ready to cut in, but she throws up a hand. "Let me finish. They are made," she tells him, "so people don't have to take vengeance into their own hands. I'm just sorry _you_ had to."

Heaven, _this_ is why he can't argue with Lily, has never argued with her until today. "That's just how it is," Koku tells her.

"I'm sure this is a great chat, but, by my estimate," Keith turns the conversation around, "RIS will be here within the hour. You have to leave before then," he directs the sentence to Koku.

"And what about you?" Lily demands, forgetting about Koku for the moment. "Do you _want_ to be arrested or something?"

"At this point," Keith sighs, then makes air quotes, "'or something'. I need to get close to the second man and, Lily," a grave expression takes over his face, "he is closer than everyone thinks." His expression, if possible, darkens further. "Really close."

The words are ominous, promising a world of pain and difficulty for the investigators. But that's their part of the case. Now that they've caught Lily up, there's nothing keeping him here. Yuna is waiting, and Market Maker is waiting. Koku has no illusions that they're not expecting him at any moment.

"I have to go."

Keith turns to him. "Koku… Can you not go after them just yet?" His face must say it all, because the man lifts both hands in a mollifying gesture. "Only a few hours. That way, they and the man who gives the orders can't work together against us, and they'll be forced to act independently. There's a good chance that will make them weaker."

He was prepared to argue, but, unluckily, the plan, if it can be called that, makes sense. Divide and conquer, is that not a strategy kings of old used to employ? "Fine."

"Good. Now, let me show you how to get to Yuna."

Keith starts fumbling around the wreckage for something, waving away Lily's offer to help. She comes to sit next to Koku instead, which honestly, he didn't quite expect.

"When this is over…" she pauses, takes a deep breath. "When this is over, you'll come back, right?"

The question takes him aback. "You'll be harbouring a murderer if I do."

"We won't tell anyone," she says. "And, well, my dad will miss you a lot if you leave," she adds. "Your passion inspires him, you know."

Truthfully, Koku had never planned to leave. Never planned a life beyond finding Yuna. Even when that possibility came closer and closer, if he thought that far for a moment, he just assumed he'd continue on as he has been, under Lily's oblivious nose.

Now, she knows. But if she can put aside the killing — She can't. She won't be able to, he can tell. Just like Keith won't be able to. They've shown as much in only a handful of minutes. — then he wants to stay.

'I won't stop,' he plans to say. 'And you can't make me.'

"You're speaking for him now too?" is what comes out, and he jerks his head in the direction of Keith.

If he never comes back, Koku doesn't want to leave her with those words, that won't even matter anymore.

She snorts. "Bah, he didn't tell _me_. He's never gonna tell anyone else."

"I can think of a couple people," the man in question butts in, appearing out of the debris with a pen in hand, "but in essence…"

He uses the destroyed wall as a writing board, starts to scribble equations that Koku has no hope of deciphering. He looks to Lily, who shakes her head; she has no idea either.

"I'd like to come back," he tells her.

She smiles with sincere joy. Koku decides he's never going to figure these people out.

"Pay attention, now," Keith says, and for a second it's Dr Heath in his place. "If you try to fly straight up, you probably won't make it. I don't know if you'll die, but it's near impossible. There is, however, a method you can use that will minimise the risks."

He has a promise to keep.

…

Up close, the numbers Keith has scrawled on what's left of the wall still make little sense. It's okay, though, not like Lily has any use for them.

As Keith explains the physics of the trip, she tries to digest everything, chief among them the fact that she's just _invited_ a killer into her life, thrown the door wide open for him to return or not as he wishes. Can she even call herself RIS any longer?

Technically, right now, she's suspended. But the excuse lasts less than a millisecond, flimsier than a rotten leaf in the wind. 'Lily Hoshina is friends with a serial killer,' Kaela laughs out loud in her mind, harder than she ever has before. That Keith is on the same boat doesn't help as much as she thought it would.

Lily should do her duty as a member of the Royal Investigation Service. But this is _Koku_. Can she really do that?

Despite everything, he's not a bad person. A least, Lily doesn't think so. 'Misguided', Boris called Killer B. She supposes Koku really is, left alone for almost a decade, without his memories or anyone to show him a better way to deal with what happened to him. If, no, _when_ , he comes back, they can deal with the whole serial murderer thing.

Sighing, Lily allows herself to acknowledge the real reason she told him to come back. Koku will be up against an elite shadow ops government group, with debatable backup that they can't be sure will be on his side. If he feels there's something to return to, a life, people who love him, she wants to think maybe her friend will fight harder for it.

If they matter to him at all.

She shakes her head. Lily has tried not to let her train of thought stray that way, but her brain doesn't often let her stop thinking things over. Koku can't have stayed for years if he doesn't, at least a little, care about them… can he?

She wants to believe in him. Truly. But the way he regards human life… Lily is not sure she can trust it.

A part of her shudders, her mind conjuring photograph after photograph of the corpses Killer B has left behind over the years. Another part of her shudders when she puts the murders in context with Koku's age.

None of this is right.

Nothing has ever prepared her for this. There's no frame of reference for the situation they find themselves in, and she doesn't know how to deal with it. The helplessness she'd felt coming is creeping up on her already. Here she is, knowing _everything_ yet being a helpless bystander, courses of action limited by the situation and her own emotions.

Lily imagines a world where she arrests Koku. What kind of prison can hold him? Surely not a humane one; not one she'd ever be comfortable condoning.

…A world where she does nothing to prevent any future murders. What kind of weight will there be on her conscience? Surely not one she can make peace with.

…A world where Koku never comes back. With an uncomfortable clench of her heart, Lily realises that is the most convenient possibility. Fortunately, the world, like Koku, is not interested in convenience.

Because of her newfound knowledge of Koku's, well, godliness, it's almost a joke, one she has to stop from making her laugh out loud. In retrospect, a lot of her previous thoughts and worries seem ironic now.

Keith kneels down so he and Koku are on the same level, and tells him not to fear the future.

They're different, both of them. Some of the bite has left Keith's words, and there's something softer about him. Lily can't pin down exactly what about Koku makes him that way, but it's a welcome change of pace from his usual demeanour.

Koku is the opposite. At times, her friend's tone has an edge of _other_. An edge that means god, and killer. He's like a live wire, tense with the wings in his chest and the steel in his bones.

"You're giving it to me?" Koku asks, eyes wide and startled. For the first time tonight, Lily truly recognises him.

All along, she's only known a part of him which, however big or small, is not the whole picture.

"It's not any use to me now," Keith says. "It's about you anyway. If there's anything you need to know, that I didn't mention…" He gestures with his hand, where he's holding the notebook. "All I'm saying is it can help you."

Koku takes it, careful, and she only realises he wasn't breathing when he runs out of air.

"Thank you," he tells Keith.

Koku takes a couple of steps backwards, putting Heath Flick's notebook in his pocket.

"When I return," he starts; looks away.

"We'll be here," she tells him. Koku nods, wings exploding out of his back, and takes to the air.

"Be careful," Keith says to the wind.

And when Lily's gut tells her that Koku does care, she doesn't question it.

"So," she turns to Keith. "When you say the killer is _close_ ," she prompts, making him take his eyes away from the horizon.

"Have you ever heard of the phrase 'keep your friends close, and your enemies closer'?"

Unfortunately, Lily has. "That close." Solemnity descends, heavy and pressing.

They have a case, a killer covering up dozens — hundreds, something tells her — of murders. As horrible as it is, as depraved, it's almost normal. Even with Market Maker using a godly power to brainwash Reggies into false confessions, it's just another murder case. Most of all, the killer is human; from those, she knows what to expect.

"First order of business?" she asks, more brightly than she feels.

"Clothes," Keith says. "Eric is never going to let me live it down if I show up like this."

"I don't know," Lily narrows her eyes, "the holiday look kind of suits you."

The scowl Keith gives her doesn't deter her one bit. There's a murderer to catch, and a case to solve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. Hope you liked it. I wanted to fill in the gaps; I was so terribly excited when the three of them met in canon that I wanted more of it. I keep going back and forth over whether Lily knows and what actually is going on, but hey, this way it's more interesting. Honestly, the hardest thing with this show is knowing who knows what, but ehh.
> 
> Tell me what you thought <3


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